


Fallen Stars

by LizaGreen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Although this won't really come up, And if he can have some, Asexual Azrael, Aziraphale and Crowley Share a Brain Cell (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Deckerstar is endgame, Everybody loves Trixie Espinoza, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Godparents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Lucifer wants to know what the Dowlings were smoking when they named Warlock, Marcus Pierce Being an Asshole, Mazikeen is wondering if all angels/fallen angels were inherently idiots, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Queerplatonic Relationships, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), They are not currently using it, Warlock Dowling & Adam Young Friendship, We do not apeak of Azrael's skeleton phase of 1990, Winged Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: Once upon a time, there were two archangels Samael and Raphael. Then the war happened.Now, Lucifer is working with the LA Police Department, minding his own business, when they are assigned the case of Theodore and Helen Dowling, the murdered American diplomats. Their insanely named son has gone missing, last seen with the mysterious once-nanny, Ashtoreth Crowley.He hopes he doesn't have to introduce his brother to Pierce/Cain. The result will not end well, especially not for the darling angel he has tied himself to.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Marcus Pierce, Ella Lopez & Lucifer Morningstar, Raphael & Samael, Trixie Espinoza & Adam Young (Good Omens), Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 34
Kudos: 553





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to do my best to merge these two, usually conflicting, ideas together but a few things to note before we start, for those who will be bothered by this:
> 
> 1) I have gone the Good Omens route and made all angels technically genderless. Crowley is as fluid as always, Lucifer, Amenadial and Aziraphale prefer male, Azrael technically prefers female but we don't talk about the great skeletal phase of 1990.
> 
> 2) Aziraphale and Crowley are queerplatonic, so expect no sex from them. Lucifer has no such qualms, in case you were wondering, but shall respect their choices.
> 
> 3) The only person's whose gender I have played with is Michael. He will be male in this, rather than female presenting as shown in the recent TV show (I don't believe gender was specified in the books, other than for the main characters).
> 
> 4) As you may tell from point 1, Nopocalypse was set in the year the Good Omens book was published: 1990. This will be set in 2017, the year Season 3 was first released, so Adam and Warlock are 38. Their professions may be up to you to decide- they are not currently set.
> 
> Right, now that that is all out of the way, please enjoy this prologue!
> 
> (Side note: Not biblically accurate. Please do not yell at me.)

In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but two angels flying through a vast vacuum, waiting to be moulded. There were no days because there weren't any suns yet. There were no nights, because there were no stars. Not even black darkness, since the colour had yet to be invented. Just blank nothingness, except the two angels.

"Why did you wish to come?" one angel asked the other. This one had dark curls and honey brown eyes, a sword gleaming from his side. His wings were a bright pure white, seeming to almost glow with their own light. "There won't be anything very interesting to see, yet."

"I love seeing the news stars," the other angel said. This one had bright copper ringlets and golden eyes, wings a bluish-black. He held a staff taller than he was, a two-headed snake coiled around the top. In appearance, they were the same age, but one got the sense the second angel was younger. "And I was curious to the process. The new project will require my knowledge, so I need to know all about this place they will live." The first smiled indulgently.

"Ah," was all he said. "Here is far enough." Both stopped and hovered in the nothingness.

"How can you know? This part of this universe has not even been crafted yet." The second seemed baffled by this decision. The first smirked.

"I know," he assured him. "And now, brother, _this_ is how you make a galaxy of stars." The first held out a fist, blew on it and, with a flick of his wrist, flung the small glowing essence out into the world. In that moment, the first star was hung and black nothingness had been invented. It glowed briefly between them as the first angel fluttered around it, poking and prodding, occasionally adding more, but always concentrating on this original.

Slowly, it grew, attracting new dust particles towards it. The second watched in fascination as matter began to take shape, at first the tiny quarks which would make up protons, electrons and neutrons, so infinitesimally small, all smashing together to create _matter_ at a speed too fast for future human eyes.

They hung and watched this galaxy of stars form and come together.

"It's beautiful," the second whispered. The first star drifted its way into the centre. "But why must the first always become like that?" As they watched, the first became so large it exploded outwards into a giant star, pulsing with deep red light. Moments later it collapsed in on itself, became so dense that only angels would not be concerned. Even light could not escape. The first shrugged.

"I tried to make them all orbit the original, but the first always gets too big and collapses in on itself. It is the way of all galaxies. I make sure the others don't drift too close to become the same."

"Do all black stars have galaxies?" the second asked. The first smiled, this one amused, neither mocking nor irritated.

"Not all, no. Sometimes they just collapse in on themselves when I'm not there to catch them. Others, like this-" another star by them had just exploded outwards, but the first caught it and _threw_ , the star shrinking into a collapsed, dense, but harmless tiny dot*, "are saved because I'm there to prevent it from happening." He preened at the sight of the new galaxy^. The second angel smiled too.

"This is amazing. And it will be where the humans will be created?"

"Eventually," the first agreed. "And you'll visit far more often than I, Raphael. You'll be needed to teach them healing." The second, Raphael, glanced at his brother with a faint frown.

"How so? The humans will need to be taught to defend themselves, surely?" Raphael asked. There was nothing said, only silence. "Samael?"

"Father said they are not meant to fight," Samael said eventually. "They are not to know violence, or be taught it as we were." His mouth was a grim line. "My justice will not be needed." Neither spoke of how his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, fingers tightening around it. Raphael merely nodded.

"They are to have something special, are they not?" Raphael asked instead, not desiring to follow the thread of the conversation through. Samael blinked and then smiled, nodding.

"Yes, free will, whatever that is," he said. He had returned to his easy-going appearance, the stiffness gone from the moment prior. Raphael felt sad, knowing that it was not in fact gone, just merely put to one side, awaiting the right moment to explode out. Usually with either Michael or Amenadiel**.

"Interesting," he commented. He knew better than to bring up the state of his brother's health. Raphael's talent was healing, but Samael hid his hurts and getting him into the Healing House took quite some effort. Whether it be those of the mind or body, his brother felt the need to cover it up with bravado and a smile, no need for the others to worry. Perhaps he knew, or was aware, like Raphael, how the younger ones looked up to him, how they admired the brother so blessed by their Father, that he had been made solely to mete out justice within the universes and beyond^^.

Raphael often wondered how hard that burden was to bear. It ended with Samael flying to other places. He bowed his head, flapping closer to his brother, eyeing this galaxy in which they were to work together and create new life in their Father's name.

"Perhaps I could bring you," he offered, "show you what the fruits of your labour have been?" The others wouldn't understand- their talents were not so dirty as his or Samael's. They only had to defend or fight should war come, and called it glory. They did not have to listen to last words, or swing the sword to those who could not fight back. They did not have to take the news back to the family.

Raphael had taken to the habit of accompanying Samael when he conducted this task, knowing how it weighed on his brother's soul. Michael called him weak for caring, that they had broken the rules and therefore did not deserve Samael's pity, but Raphael disagreed. The family were innocents, had not usually been involved in the affair and delivering the news could be hard. They would weep, or rage, or attack. And Samael would stand and take it all, forgiving them the sin of laying hands upon his person and refuse to fight back. And quietly keep the secrets inside.

Samael smiled at the offer, genuine this time, soft and sad.

"I would like that," he whispered softly.

* * *

The woman was washing herself in the stream of the garden. She did this every day much to her husband's chagrin. Raphael, as healer, came often to the Garden, to ensure they had not injured themselves. The first few humans had done so, some having killed themselves by accident, drowning or setting themselves on fire. Some had forgotten to eat entirely, or ate poisonous berries and died before Raphael could reach them. Those did not last long and many of his brethren laughed at them***.

Samael pitied them.

He was watching the woman now, almost in earnest. He seemed curious as to why she, and she alone, had taken to bathing where the man had not. They knew not shame, so wore no clothes, but the man knew not to wash and so became dirty. The woman had watched him in disgust, seemingly unhappy with this man who was her husband. Samael shifted on the rock, head cocked.

"Why does Father not tell the man to follow her lead? It cannot be comfortable to be so dirty for so long. She looked uncomfortable last night." The woman was expecting, the first of the pairs to have done so. Soon, there would be more, although Raphael would have to watch them closely and ensure that the child would come to no harm. He shrugged.

"Because humans have free will," Raphael explained calmly. "They have the freedom to choose whether to be clean or dirty without Father or us or even her dictating it." Samael blinked.

"That's what free will is?" His voice sounded small. "They can… choose?" Raphael winced. _Will Father be angry that I brought it up? Have I done something wrong?_ The humans seemed to raise so many questions between both him and Samael, but both knew they could never voice them to anyone else. Not to mention that there were new angels to be created, new tasks for the younger ones to complete.

"I suppose so," Raphael said, even quieter. "But that is for them, not for us." He paused, watching Samael watch the woman. "Her name is Lilith," he said, uncertain why. "She seemed unhappy with her partner."

"She has the freedom to do so," Samael noted, almost bitterly. The more he brought Samael here, the more the feelings festered. He remembered the day that they came and made this galaxy, that led to this world they now lived on. He remembered how Samael had been, knowing he was not to visit or offer them wisdom, or teachings of his own. How he was not to teach them defence or justice or violence.

How, in Michael's words, he was not to 'corrupt' the humans.

"Yes," Raphael said certainly. "But… it should also be her choice, what she does with her body. The downside of free will. She has the freedom to do as she wishes, but so does he." Samael's face darkened.

"And yet, I am ordered to stay away," he half growled, jumping to his feet, wings puffed up in his anger. "Father would have me stay away from them, not teach them the difference between right and wrong. It's for _them_ to decide," he spat, with great disdain, "for the _humans_ to make that up! And yet we are punished when we question our orders, when we ask _why_ we must go kill this sentient or that! Why I must leave others in grief?!" Rage warred with sorrow in Samael's eyes as he turned away. "But not her. I will not kill her." Raphael blinked as his brother took to the air, flying away.

It was the first clue he had, of the war about to break out.

Below, Lilith had finished her bath and was lazily splashing in the river, oblivious of the turmoil she had caused.

* * *

Eve was different to Lilith, Crowley had thought, while whispering in her ear. Easier to manipulate, too trusting and naive compared to her counter-part. Adam had learned well from Lucifer's words, had never touched Eve the way he had touched Lilith. They were not compatible either, really, but Eve, poor Eve, so desperate to find solace and comfort, to give and give and _give_ , had taken the apple and gave it to Adam as well.

And Adam had taken it so willingly.

He approached the angel at the Eastern Gate, curious and keen to watch the pair wander off into the world, created by a single spark so many centuries ago. Not that he would mention it to this stranger, one of the youngest who saw only the back end of the war and knew not why it started. Who never saw the despair in bright honey eyes, dulled to dark brown in grief and rage.

"Well that went down like a lead balloon," he commented, not knowing what the words would mean.

Not knowing that this would be the start of a long and fulfilling life, relationship and love, always darkened by a secret never said between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Humans would come to call these 'White Dwarfs', without realizing that they were neither white nor, presumably, small.
> 
> ^It must be noted, this angel was always rather fond of preening. He still does it rather often.
> 
> **Both liked to vex their younger sibling by pointing out that they were the eldest. Neither could agree, however, which had been born first and many poor younger angels were confused as to which to call the 'First' Angel. Samael would like to point out that this could have been resolved millennia ago, but rather thinks that their parents find the argument entertaining. Raphael would just like a nap and not be involved in any way. Preferably on a nice warm rock.
> 
> ^^ There are in fact, many universes, of various levels of violence. Samael finds this task both exhausting and irritating and wishes someone else has been named the Venom of God. But, what can one angel do?
> 
> *** Rather much like the Human Computer Game 'The Sims', first humans had to learn how swiftly their lives could come to an end. Unlike the game, however, they did not get a second chance at life.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been a good day, when things took a turn for the worst. Having decided to act on the good doctor's advice, Lucifer had taken a step back in his relationship with Chloe, allowed her time alone with Pierce and found refuge in other areas. His old partners had been all too delighted to invite him back. So, humming a tune to himself, he had entered the precinct that morning in a good mood.

It took less than five minuets to realise that the rest of the world was having a decidedly less good day.

"Thaddeus and Helen Dowling," Pierce said to the precinct at large. "Foreign diplomats for three Presidents now. They were killed in their LA mansion last night, found by their maid this morning. Contact with their son, Warlock, has been unsuccessful. This will be a double case: solving the murder and finding Warlock, before any harm can come to him." There were several horrified faces around him as Lucifer frowned.

"Why does anyone care?" he asked Ella, who was stood at the door to her lab, face grave. "The man endorsed all those anti-LGBTQA+ societies." Ella patted his arm almost in consolidation.

"I'm sure he's getting what was coming to him," she said, uncharacteristically solemn. "I just hope their son is alright. Dude split with them years ago, cos they didn't agree with him dating a guy." Lucifer snarled internally. As if anyone cared the gender of someone's partner- the one thing his father did not care about. _Free will and all that,_ he thought sourly. _They are allowed to choose to hate. This is the part I do not like._

He had learnt that lesson well.

"Do they know where he last was?" he asked quietly. No doubt Chloe would be assigned to solve the murder: their closing success rate was the best here, although she might insist he sit this one out. He wasn't exactly being quiet, either vocally or facially, with his thoughts on the man. All he could think was that it was good on the son for ditching them the moment he could. At least _he_ had had friends he could fall back on.

For a moment, Lucifer could hear the soft rustling of scales, blindly following him in the dark and clenched his fists.

"Last contact saw him with a woman, identified as the Dowling's ex-nanny from the 1980's, Ashtoreth Crowley," Chloe said, appearing as if from nowhere in the crowd. "Pierce assigned you to work with Dan to find him." Her eyes were sad as she said so. Lucifer blinked, processing that.

"Crowley?" he asked, just to be sure. He could work with Detective Douche, he had done so before. The second part to that, however, might be a problem. She nodded, eyebrows creasing together.

"Yes, do you know her?" she asked. Lucifer pursed his lips, considering what he ought to say. He never lied, but he _was_ sometimes guilty of omission.

"Not as Ashtoreth," he settled on. That got him a quirk of the eyebrow and he shrugged. "If it is the person I am thinking of." Right age, American foreign diplomat, he had heard of the mix up. The kid was the right age with the right terrible name given by equally terrible parents*.

"Please tell me this isn't something illegal," Chloe said. "I don't want to know if it is." Lucifer blinked and pretended to be offended.

"Only illegal if genderfluidity is," he said with mock hurt. Something flashed behind her eyes and she flushed, embarrassed.

"Ah, no," she said, almost guiltily. Then frowned. "Genderfluid? Do you think they knew?" Lucifer snorted.

"Do you think they would have allowed her anyone near their precious darling if they had?" The bitterness was unintentional. Crowley had probably laughed her ass off at the thought. Dan had sidled up behind Chloe, looking quietly bemused but serious. 

"Got any idea how to contact them?" he asked, adding nothing to the conversation. Lucifer considered this a moment.

"I have one," he said out loud, inwardly grimacing. Well, there were a few but in person would be best. "Last I heard he was living with his partner in London. I'll... go contact him." Dan frowned but nodded.

"If they're still in London, then that might be the last place Warlock Dowling was, too." Dan looked unhappy. "That could be a problem."

Lucifer just nodded, making up an excuse that he would go call on them. The best way to go about this would be in person- perhaps the regaining of his wings wasn't too terrible in this context. After all, Crowley had seen them at their worst. 

* * *

Crowley was sleeping peacefully, curled up underneath the frond of a plant in a patch of sun, when something flew into his window. Very _loudly_. His phone had rung a few times earlier that day and there was a voicemail from Warlock, but he had been feeling too sleepy and lethargic in the middle of Winter to drag himself back into human form and answer it. He brought his head up to wonder whether a pigeon had flown into the window again^.

He wasn't expecting the stream of curse words in a creative mix of Aramaic, Sanskrit and Enochian. Outside his window, Lucifer was glaring at the glass with all the offended majesty of an irritated wasp. Crowley sighed and slipped back into human form and padded naked to the window.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely. Lucifer glared at him.

"Open the bloody window!" he shouted. "Unless you _want_ the LAPD to put a BOLO out for you." Crowley blinked and cocked his head.

"I don't have openable windows." He tapped the glass with his knuckles. "Weather here is dreadful, it'll ruin my plants." Behind him, said plants trembled in their pots. Lucifer huffed.

"The door had better be open," he growled before disappearing below. Crowley stood there a moment, wondering what on earth would have dragged the Great Beast of the Pit to his Central London flat.

He was not expecting Lucifer to appear, a few moments later, arm in arm with Aziraphale, looking rather bowled over by the man.

"Look what I found on your doorstep!" Lucifer said in delight, at the same moment Aziraphale squeaked, "Crowley! Clothes!" Crowley sighed and snapped on some, rather amused by Aziraphale's continued prudishness concerning the naked human form.

Sometimes, being a snake was far easier.

"Leave Zira alone, he doesn't need your interference," Crowley snapped, sauntering towards his kitchen. "Tea anyone? Or something stronger?" Aziraphale made noises about making tea, while Lucifer made himself at home, observing the plants. Despite his amused exterior, Crowley could tell there was something brewing behind those brown eyes. Something bad.

"Are you alright?" Crowley whispered, allowing the noise of the kettle on the stove to drown him out. Aziraphale, having excellent hearing, nodded, looking a little confused.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Is there a reason I wouldn't be?" He looked rather curious. "You didn't say you were having visitors, I would have called ahead otherwise."

"Not planned," Crowley agreed. "I was sleeping under the palm fronds, and the next I knew the King of Hell was flying into my windows like a deranged pigeon." Aziraphale looked rather offended on behalf of the pigeons.

"You mean he's…?" He didn't finish the sentence, glancing back into the living room where Lucifer was still inspecting the plants. He was tapping one admonishingly. "But he seems so… _ordinary_." _Last I heard he had cut his wings off,_ Crowley didn't say.

"Not what you were expecting?" Crowley asked instead. "I thought he'd be angrier about the Nopocalypse, but he said something about Warlock after waking me up." Neither mentioned the pigeons again- Aziraphale rather liked the feathered fiends, while Crowley appreciated them for the anger they drummed in the humans of London. They were certainly crafty beasts, if not particularly smart**.

They had decided between them to get back into contact with Warlock after the Nopocalypse, and what a good thing they had. Warlock, after some years, had confessed to his now admitted genderfluid nanny that he wasn't very interested in the pretty girls that his father kept foisting on him, but rather a Senior at his High School in America, notable for his accomplishments on the football field. Adam had been confused by his quiet question if that was wrong.

Crowley had inwardly seethed as Aziraphale assured him that no, it wasn't, look at him and Crowley, it was perfectly normal. Warlock had pointed out that neither of them was interested in sex, which he most certainly was. Crowley had countered that that was normal too and it was up to him to determine how far he wished to take a relationship. Just because they weren't interested in sex, happy to hold hands, share dinners and occasional kisses (although Aziraphale blushed redder than a tomato and Crowley would never admit how shy his own were), didn't mean Warlock had to be the same in _his_ relationships.

Brian had quietly enquired if Warlock would be interested in someone like him, no Senior or football player. The rest had been a rather interesting history.

They had met both Brian and Warlock a few days ago, both excited about the girl they were soon to adopt. Warlock had been nervous, not wanting to make a bad impression or come off as uncaring as his parents. Aziraphale had shared an indulgent smile with Crowley as Brian, in a tone that said this was a common argument, assured him that was an impossibility. They had parted ways pleasantly, Warlock still fretting.

The kettle shrieked before Aziraphale could say more. Crowley set three mugs on a tray along with the biscuits Aziraphale had dutifully pulled out of a cupboard, while his partner poured hot water over the leaves in the pot. Moment later, they both walked out to face Lucifer.

Old Scratch was busy playing with his phone, smirking at something. Crowley caught what was probably the tail end of a wordplay game with someone.

Aziraphale cleared his throat as Crowley set the tray down on the pristine coffee table. Lucifer tucked the phone away into his suit jacket, eyed the mugs that Crowley only had because Aziraphale insisted, poked one with clinical precision and then adjusted his cuff links. A sign he was feeling rather awkward despite the contradictory grin on his face.

"Ah, how lovely," he said, nodding towards the tea set. "Thank you for your hospitality." He poured something strong smelling from a flask he pulled from another inner pocket of his suit. Aziraphale eyed him disapprovingly, taking a prim sip from his own mug. If his wings were visible, no doubt they would be fluffed up in irritation.

"Now, what was this about Warlock and the LAPD?" Crowley asked, wondering if he could ask for some of that flask. Lucifer played with his cufflinks again and then, suddenly, held out the flask. Crowley took it in reactionary surprise.

A moment later he realised why.

"Well, as you may know, I have been working with the LAPD," Lucifer began and Crowley rolled his eyes. The man sounded far too enthusiastic about it, an odd decision considering his old hatred of all thing's punishment. Or perhaps, he felt at home because others now knew how it felt. Aziraphale blinked. "And our recent case is that of Thaddues and Helen Dowling. They were murdered last night in their house."

Crowley poured some of the whiskey from the flask into his own tea and handed it back.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said, sounding sad despite the fact that they knew what an arse the man was. "How dreadful."

"Yes, well, the point is," Lucifer said, sounding awkward. No doubt he felt the same about the man as Crowley. "No one has been able to get ahold of their son, Warlock. Obviously, as this is a high profile case, they want him found even if he is on holiday and the last they heard of him, he was in the presence of his old nanny, Ms Crowley." Aziraphale blinked again.

Crowley frowned.

"Warlock phoned this morning," he said slowly, glancing towards the old answer machine. "He left a voice message. You can have a copy of the tape if you want."

"Do you know what is on it?" Lucifer asked. Crowley heard the silent question and swallowed. He glanced at Aziraphale, whose eyes were soft.

"Shall we hear what he had to say?" his husband asked gently. Crowley took a deep gulp of the spiked tea before rising and pressing play on the blinking answer machine. The ancient technology let out a noise of static before starting.

_"Hi, Crowley,"_ Warlock's voice said, sounding oddly nervous. _"I know we were all supposed to meet at the cottage this weekend, so you can all meet Sophie, but... we're not gonna be able to make it."_ There was the sound of a gulp and, fainter, the sound of a whimper. _"Something came up with my parents, so we'll be stuck in LA until next week. Sorry we won't be there but we'll send you lots of pics!"_

The click of the end of the tape was loud in the air.

Crowley slowly curled his hands into fists and glanced back towards Lucifer. He didn't dare look at Aziraphale. The way he felt, he probably blazed far brighter than the lowly demon he was supposed to be. Lucifer's face was grim, no trace of amusement, eyes dark. He seemed to have zoned in on that tiny whimper in the background, almost too faint for human ears to pick up. Theirs was far superior.

"We're coming to LA," he said decisively. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale nod.

"I do believe a room at The Ritz, Los Angeles, has just been booked in our name," he commented. It showed how concerned Lucifer was that he made no comment on the angel making frivolous use of miracles.

Instead, for a moment, he looked like the avenging angel he had once been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lucifer, however, would like to know what exactly they had been smoking to name the child so, and whether any would be left in their house for him to find. He could do with another good night out.
> 
> ^This was a more common occurrence than people might think.
> 
> **His particular favourite activity was to see how many humans were duped into feeding the 'injured' ones over the perfectly healthy. Nine times out of ten, said bird would then stop limping and fly off with its prize once the silly human turned its back.


	3. Chapter 2

Daniel Espinoza could deal with many things. He could deal with the fact that he won no awards for Father of the Year. He knew that he was not the best cop either. He had only just gotten his position as Detective back, had only just started to have a functional relationship with his ex-wife and had only just started to tolerate Lucifer bloody Morningstar.

He wasn't sure how he could handle this.

The person who followed Lucifer into the precinct the next morning was, he had to admit, pretty androgyneous. He couldn't tell whether they had decided to present as male or female today and didn't want to make an ass of himself on the first impression*. They had curley red hair which fell past their shoulders and seemed to wear only black. A small tattoo of a snake coiled around a pole was situated next to their left ear, half hidden by the flaming curls and their eyes were impossible to see through thick, black lenses. Behind them tottered a small man all in white: white hair, white clothes, white shoes. His eyes were blue, but so pale they almost seemed white as well.

"Ah, Detective Douche, just who we were looking for!" Lucifer called, halfway between the steps and his desk. Half the precinct looked up, paused, and then continued what they were doing. The pause was odd- it had been nearly a year since Lucifer's presence stopped all from their work to admire his glory. Definitely a year since half the office looked starstruck as he went by.

Ella popped out of the lab and bounded across the room. The red haired one paused and sniffed the air, lip curling.

"Lucifer! There you are!" she squealed, in only an Ella-branded way. She wrapped her arms around the self confessed Devil- who flinched as usual before deftly patting her on the back and pulling away- with a large grin on her face. His companions looked either intrigued (the red-head) or concerned (the one in white). Dan chose that moment to sidle over, just to be on the safe side.

"Ella," he said gently. "I'm sure Lucifer has something to add to the case." The forensic scientist pouted, looking put-out for some reason. Lucifer, in his usual Lucifer way, patted her on the head like a dog and gave her a winning smile.

"I'm sure we'll be able to catch up another time, Miss Lopez," he said. Once she had left, he turned said dazzling grin on Dan, except this time there was an edge to it. "Douche, this is my old friend Crowley. He has a tape for you." Dan blinked.

"That's… great," he said, trying not to sound too suspicious. 'Friend' to Lucifer usually meant 'person he had had sex with previously', although he had to admit that Crowley did not match up with the other socialite hipster youth that ended up in Lucifer's bed. "Um… Crowley, is it? I'm sorry, I don't…"

"Just Crowley," they said, voice definitely male and definitely English. "And the pronoun is he unless specified otherwise today. Although, I don't much care." Dan nodded awkwardly. _And I was going to give a good first impression,_ he thought morosely.

"Right, um, thanks," Dan said, still feeling awkward. Crowley fished around in his absurdly expensive black jacket and pulled out an old fashioned casette tape.

"From my ansaphone," he said. "Sorry it's ancient, Zira never upgraded since the 1970's." The man behind him bristled a little, pouting. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, mouth opened to say something. Dan cut him off.

"Fair enough. And don't worry about being old fashioned: the Devil over here only got a cell phone last year." Lucifer made an affronted noise, which he ignored in favour of taking the tape and heading towards the back rooms, where all their vintage tech was kept. People kept weird things in LA and a cassette tape was the least of it. The worst had been finding an ancient drive that would read floppy disks for an archaeological dig where the remains of a twenty year old woman from two years ago had been dug up in the middle of a Bronze Age settlement. "Lucifer take care of your guests."

He didn't turn to see if he had.

Minuets later, after plugging in the cassette player and listening to the tape three times, he emerged from the back room, face grim, to find Crowley lounging in a chair opposite Lucifer, while the man he had arrived with seemed in some kind of argument with him. Lucifer's face was a cross between drawn amusement and three steps away from knocking the guy out. It was an oddly familiar look- one he himself had often been on the other end of. Seeing it turned against someone else, and it _working_ , was something else entirely.

Dan might have said something, right until he came into hearing range with them.

"I do not understand why you have to be involved _at all_. After all that kerfuffle you caused in 1990-"

"I had nothing to do with that," Lucifer snapped back at the white haired man. "I only heard of Adam that day. As for the whole starting the apocalyse thing, I _told_ the ingrates no, but Gabriel and the others were all chomping at the bit for their _war_. The only thing I said to Beelzebub was to make it all go away, I was busy."

Crowley snorted.

"That makes far more sense. And the ground rumbling?"

"Well I wasn't about to let him gallivant off with all the powers of the AntiChrist now, was I?" Lucifer sniffed, adjusting his cufflinks. Dan had come to realise that that was a sign the man was feeling awkward.

"And the ones you left alone?" There was a smirk in Crowley's voice whereas his partner was all ruffled feathers.

"Well," Lucifer shrugged. "It seemed callous to not give him a birthday present."

"I thought you sent him Dog?" Zira- if Dan had heard the other right- said sounding less agitated and more confused.

"Technically, that was Maze," Lucifer said, sounding bored. His eyes then caught sight of Dan and he perked up. It was probably the only time Dan could say the other man had been happy to see him. "Ah, Detective Douche! Found the cassette player?"

"Er, yeah," Dan said, uncertain of what he had just heard. He refrained from asking- the less he knew about Lucifer's past the better, it always seemed. He turned to Crowley. "I know your ansaphone doesn't have the capability to track a mobile's location, but you don't happen to know on the off-chance, where they might have been?"

"They came to America to adopt a child, Sophie. Where did they say they found her?" Crowley turned to his partner, who perked up a little from where he had been watching Lucifer warily. Lucifer had turned to stare balefully over at Chloe's empty desk.

"The Mercy Foundation, LA," Zira said. "They had to wait so long for same sex marriage to be legal in this country, and then they got put on this dreadfully long waiting list of potential guardians before even meeting _any_ of those poor orphans-"

"Zira, the man only asked for their last known location. But yes, that is the crux of it." Dan blinked and nodded.

"Great, that's really great news." He paused, wondering. How did these two have such a close relationship to a Foriegn Diplomat's child, when they were both so… British? And not even in Lucifer's way of the accent: Zira was so impeccably polite as to seem almost passive agressive with it, and Crowley looked like something straight out of the era of the Beatles. He wouldn't be surprised if the man drove some kind of vintage car^.

There was a burst of noise from the other side of the precinct, and Dan caught sight of Chloe and Pierce rushing out of the building, off chasing some lead or other most likely. It was rare for Chloe not to work with Lucifer, and even rarer these days for her to not lament the loss of her partner. This case, however, she seemed eager to work with her new boyfriend.

He could sympathise with the look of sorrow crossed with jealousy in Lucifer's eyes. It was never easy to see the woman you loved running off with another man.

* * *

Crowley was very uncomfortable in the LAPD precinct. The place _reeked_ of sin, a den of corruption, death and decay in every sense of the words, compounded by the presence of Cain, who had just run across the other side of the room. He curled his lip, hissing near inaudibly under his breath at the sight of the man, remembering tears in the eyes of the man's mother when she heard the news. He could not stand such selfishness, and he lived in a pit full of demons.

Aziraphale just watched with some curiosity, eyeing Lucifer in his chair out of the side of his eyes. The poor Detective that Lucifer refused to name properly looked a little lost on how to continue, shuffling his papers and trying to reach past Lucifer for a pen on what was presumably _his_ desk.

Lucifer, oddly, stood.

"Ah, I think I'll just go see what Ella wanted," he said, fiddling with his cuffs. Crowley tried not to think of the girl who smelt of Azrael, no matter that both Lucifer and the Angel of Death had always been close. 1990 was forever going to be hard to forget.

"Wait, Lucifer-!" the Detective started, but the Great Beast of the Pit brushed past him without a care, hardly even seeming to have heard him. Crowley glanced again to where his brother had been staring. Not at Cain- Lucifer and the first murderer had never once met before, the fallen angel too busy running Hell back in those days- but the woman with him, so animated and bright in the world. Crowley was surprised to find he could still sense such divinity. The Detective grumbled something unflattering under his breath, slumping into the seat vacated by Lucifer.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

"Ah, Detective… I'm afraid I never caught your name?" he started, feathers ruffling in the space between spaces awkwardly. The Detective glanced up, blinking.

"Dan. Detective Daniel Espinoza," he said, seemingly surprised to still find them there. "How can I help?"

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," Aziraphale said, flapping his hands in agitation. "You see, we were wondering what _we_ could do to help _you_." Daniel Espinoza blinked.

"Oh," he said. "Um… you've helped a lot already…" He seemed unsure how to answer such sincere earnestness. "Right now it's just a lot of tracking down information about the orphanage and what they can tell us of Warlock's last known location."

"Sounds good," Crowley said, standing and stretching languidly. "We'll go start asking questions then?"

"What? No!" Espinoza said, leaping from his seat, wide-eyed. "You can't just burst in there and demand answers! I'll have to set up a meeting, get a warrant to check the premises for any clues if I think it's worth it, make sure the staff are all on hand and willing to talk, get grants to talk with the children…" He trailed off at Crowley's faintly disgusted look.

"That sounds like a lot of bureaucracy for no good reason," he dismissed. "Much easier to just-"

"Crowley, no," Aziraphale broke in sternly. "We must follow their protocols. You know what happens when you don't." Crowley pouted.

Espinoza was looking at him with narrowed eyes all of a sudden.

"What?" Crowley snapped, annoyed that this small human was holding them up and Aziraphale, for some reason, was _agreeing_ with him, just because Crowley had gotten into some trouble two hundred years ago**.

"Nothing," the man said. "It's just… for a moment, you reminded me of…" His eyes flicked towards the room Lucifer had disappeared into and Crowley stiffened. Aziraphale looked offended on his behalf.

"Well, _really_ ," Aziraphale huffed, feather ruffled again. "That is downright rude. Dear Crowley is nothing like-"

"Oi, Crawly, what are you doing here?!" shouted a voice over the din of the precinct. Several persons jumped, mostly the criminals being escorted to various places. One man flinched so badly, both he and the officer escorting him fell into a water cooler and disappeared behind a table. Crowley scowled.

"It's _Crowley_ , Mazikeen of the Lilim," Crowley snapped, head whipping around to lock gazes with the demon. She smirked, sucking obscenely on a lollipop. "I should have known the loyal guard dog would be here." Her face twitched. It appeared he had hit a nerve.

"I am _no one's_ guard dog," she growled, swinging over the railing and down into the maze of desks around them. "You take that back, snake." Hellfire gleamed in her eyes. Aziraphale looked ready to lunge forwards. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"Make me," he said with a smirk. Rarely did Crowley go looking for a fight, but right now, a scuffle with a fellow demon seemed like a good idea. He needed to get some tension out, distract himself from the constant worry for Warlock, Brian and little Sophie^^. And if there was one demon always spoiling for a fight, it was Mazikeen.

Crowley heard her knives before he saw them, but had barely moved to dodge before Aziraphale was suddenly between the two of them, hands waving, flustered.

"No, no, no fighting," he insisted. "We came here to help, not cause trouble." He looked worried, had been since they left Crowley's flat. Crowley almost sneered.

"What, hiding behind your little angel are you?" Mazikeen goaded, smirking. "Just like you, you pathetic bottom feeder." Dan the Detective looked helpless, seemingly knowing he could not stop this and unsure what Aziraphale was going to do.

"Aziraphale, move," Crowley growled. "I promise, I can deal with this myself." It was sweet his angel wanted to help. Crowley had never been a fighter, but he had trained with Lucifer before. He knew, with some confidence, that he could take Mazikeen, Beelzebub and the rest if he so wished. It just so happened that he never did.

"No, Crowley, I mean it," Aziraphale continued, standing firm. "We came to find Warlock, not to start fights. I'll get Adam if I have to!" It wasn't really a threat- Adam most like wouldn't come knowing who _was_ here. Crowley was just in the process of pushing him aside, as gently as he could, when a different voice cut in across the noise of the precinct, over the curious and horrified onlookers.

"Raphael?" 

Before anyone could blink, the punch that would have been Mazikeen's met Amenadiel's shocked face instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Something, it had to be said, that Dan was very good at. 
> 
> ^And in that he would be completely right, although Crowley had had to leave the Bentley in England. Trans-Atlantic travel on wings did not allow for vintage cars, unfortunately.
> 
> **The year had been 1880 and Crowley had been curiously exploring Bath and the ingenious new ways the humans were using the hot springs. Unfortunately, she had accidentally explained to a wonderful gentleman how she had visited these ruins before and had gotten into trouble with the law when she tried to bathe naked in the waters, just as one was supposed to. The Victorians were rather prudish in that way, much like the blushing Aziraphale who turned up before the policeman could cart her away. Crowley was just sad she couldn't finish her bath. 
> 
> ^^Crowley would never admit to his deep love for children, which he had harboured ever since he had cradled baby Cain for Eve the night she gave birth. A story which he had never told Aziraphale, Lucifer, nor the man himself. He had much preferred Seth anyway, once they were all grown.


	4. Chapter 3

Silence fell over the precinct, the world seeming to pause for a moment without the help of the First Angel. Then, a slow clapping broke through that stillness, Lucifer Morningstar looking like a child in a sweet shop.

"Oh, bravo," he said, eyes bright. "That only took you thousands of years. How long until you do it again?" The Devil seemed supremely unconcerned by the gaping expressions of two out of three supernatural beings, one confused Detective and the guilty Fallen Angel nursing bruised fingers. Amenadiel lay unconscious on the floor, oblivious to the unfolding chaos.

Maze twitched first.

" _You knew?!_ " she shrieked, almost vibrating on the spot, just as Aziraphale pulled himself back together enough to say, "Oh," and collapse into the nearest seat. Lucifer blinked, looking surprised by the demon's concern.

"Well, of course I did. Dad didn't exactly waste time throwing us all out," he said, as if this explained everything. Aziraphale squeaked at such familiar tones used to describe the Great Eminence that was the Creator of All Things.

"But-but- you never lie!" Maze said, almost desperately. "You've never-"

"I've never been called by my own dead name either," Lucifer spat, eyes suddenly dark and furious. Brown eyes flecked with gold swirled with Hellfire and vicious, murderous desire, daring the demon to continue that line of thought. Mazikeen, who had more sense than to push in such a situation, banished her knives, almost bowing before that look. She had given up her eternal servitude, had been given her freedom, but every self-respecting demon still gave deference to the Devil himself. It was just common sense.

It was Dan who reminded them all of exactly where they were.

"You… You're related, then?" he started awkwardly, shifting in place and wondering what this all meant. He wanted to ask so many more questions, but that look, one that made even the bravest humans quiver on the spot, was not one he wanted directed at him. A small hand was clutching Lucifer's arm, no doubt the only thing preventing him from ripping his demon apart for her brief moment of forgetfulness.

Ella did not know what was occurring either, really.

"Hm?" Lucifer hummed, eyes still fixed on Mazikeen.

"Yes," Crowley answered for him, flexing his fingers. He had forgotten just how hard of a head the First Angel had. No doubt a metaphor for his thick skull. "But its been… a while." Lucifer's gaze flicked towards him and then away again, half shrugging.

"Two decades isn't _that_ long, stop exaggerating," Lucifer muttered mulishly, relaxing slightly. Crowley might have appreciated the sentiment more had he not wished to curl up under the nearest rock and sleep for the next century. Dan made a squeaking noise.

"Luce, you should have introduced us earlier!" Ella butted in, deciding that now was a good time for a distraction- probably so Maze could slink away and lick her wounds in peace for a while. The fight might not have actually broken out, but she knew her friend hated one to be broken up, and this one looked like it might be vicious should _Lucifer_ get involved. She'd heard all the stories after all.

Crowley was not expecting to be tackled into a hug by a woman smelling of Death.

"Hi, I'm Ella!" said woman exclaimed, beaming up at him. "It's great to meet you!" Crowley wondered how to peel himself out of her grip and sent a panicked look Lucifer's way. His brother relaxed minutely and gently pried the tight grip away.

"Ah, Miss Lopez, my sibling is rather… _apprehensive_ about touch." Neither mentioned the eyes. Ella flushed red, leaping backwards as if burnt, looking mortified.

"Oh, oh I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!" she squealed, looking distinctly upset with herself. "Luce, you should have said!" She glanced up at her friend, who patted her on the shoulder in consolation. Crowley swallowed, hiding the rising shudder, offering her a smile.

"It's fine," he said, hiding shaking hands in deep pockets (distinctly why they were there). "You didn't know."

"That's no excuse!" Ella shot back, wringing her hands. "I know _I'm_ a hugger, but I sometimes forget others aren't. You don't need to brush it off." She looked like she was internally cursing herself. "I made the same mistake with Luce, so I _should_ know better." Crowley blinked.

"Ah, my dear, I'm sure Crowley does not hold it against you," Aziraphale said, bustling in, finding sanctuary in helping others. It was almost enough to warm Crowley's heart. "He is rather direct about these things." Aziraphale would know- he, too, sometimes fell foul of Crowley's occasional aversion to touch, especially in times of high stress. He hadn't even been able to tolerate holding Aziraphale's hand on the way in.

"Zira is right. I took no offence, truly," Crowley said, uncomfortable with all this self-flagellation. It set off senses he had ignored for millennia. "I'd much rather focus on finding Warlock." Ella perked up at this, offering him a small smile. He could feel she hadn't forgiven herself yet for it. 

"Yes, right. Actually, I might have something for you guys." She disappeared a moment, leaving them all standing in awkward silence. Detective Espinoza opened his mouth to say something. Ella was back before he could and the man snapped it shut again. "Here, I found this." She thrust forward a plastic bag, inside of which was the broken remains of a phone. "It was Helen Dowling's phone. They finally managed to pull to phone records from it. Apparently she had been phoning Warlock and his husband for months now." Crowley blinked.

"She had?" He exchanged a glance with Aziraphale. They would need to talk about today, about the revelation Amenadiel had blurted out in the middle of a human precinct, but right now they had more important things to worry about.

"Yeah," Ella nodded, also producing a wad of papers stuck together with a clip. "And from the transcripts of the text messages, I'd say her husband didn't know about it." Lucifer delicately took the papers before the Detective could, Espinoza looking rather irritated by this move and the fact that Ella hadn't even _offered_ them to him. One dark eyebrow rose, Lucifer looking distinctly unimpressed.

"Oh, yes, the usual 'I'm so sorry for abandoning you, please forgive me' spiel," he said with some disgust. Crowley winced. There was a story there, and one he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Considering their _own_ Mother... Aziraphale frowned disapprovingly at him.

"Everyone deserves forgiveness," he said. Crowley tried to open his mouth to cut him off, sensing imminent disaster. Aziraphale didn't notice. "No doubt, Mrs Dowling wanted to make amends. A mother will always love her son." 

Crowley hid his head in his hands.

"Always?" Lucifer hissed, body rigid, papers crinkling and tearing with the force he held them in. " _Always?_ " 

"Well, of course," Aziraphale said, sounding confused. Crowley groaned outwardly. Inwardly, he was wishing to be back in snake form. Things were simpler when you had no other worries than dinner and the best patch of sunlight. "A mother's love is divine."

Crowley moved before his angel lost his head. Lucifer's fist whistled through mid-air a feather's width from Aziraphale's face.

"He didn't mean it," Crowley hissed, using the language of the demons over English. "He has never been to Hell, is too young to have known... _her_." He had to grit his teeth, unable to say her name. If one bothered to look, Lucifer's eyes were glowing red. "He doesn't know what he just said."

"Teach him," Lucifer growled, answering in kind. Crowley shuddered, feeling the _power_ behind those two words, the force of the order. "Teach him, or there will be no second chance." Crowley nodded, kneeling, head bowed as one demon to his Master.

"As you so command, Great King of the Pit." Lucifer flinched, despite nodding his acceptance. He hated when Crowley prostrated himself in the traditional way, showing unusual obedience.

They were gone before Amenadiel groaned, signalling his finally coming around.

* * *

Chloe walked back into a precinct in disarray. Their lead had gone cold, nothing more than a dead end, and so they had returned with the intention of going over the phone records Ella had texted her had come in. What she didn't expect to find was Amenadiel unconscious on the floor, Dan looking blindsided, Maze skulking at the edges of the precinct, a pale Ella and Lucifer, in the centre of it all, shaking bodily in rage. Paper drifted in shreds like feathers around his feet.

Chloe was almost knocked off her feet by two strangers, dressed as opposites, shoving past, fleeing the precinct.

"Lucifer?" she asked quietly, sensing that he, somehow, was the most important here. Dan was staring at Lucifer and an empty spot across from him. Amenadiel groaned on the floor. "Lucifer!" she called a little louder.

He startled.

"Detective!" he said, face forming into a strained smile. There was something deeply hurt, angry and sad all at once, locked away in his eyes that she couldn't understand. "Any leads?" He seemed oblivious to his brother blinking groggily on the floor.

"No..." She trailed off, frowning. "Did you and Amenadiel get in a fight again?" Lucifer blinked almost in surprise.

"Fight...?" He turned and finally noticed his brother. "Oh, no! That was Crowley," he explained almost brightly. There was something off with him still. "Bit of a long story, actually."

"Luci...?" Amendial groaned. He was astutely ignored.

"Ah, Miss Lopez, I'm sorry, I appear to have destroyed your records..." Lucifer was eyeing the paper shreds around him. "And made a bit of a mess." He sounded oddly dejected about that.

"No worries!" Ella said quickly. "I have a couple extra copies for Dan and Chloe, I'll just print you an extra!" She, too, seemed unconcerned by the man on the floor. In fact, she was eyeing Lucifer with worried eyes, fingers twitching like she desperately wanted to give him a hug. She had become much more attuned to Lucifer's moods, however, and his shifting attitude towards touch.

"Ah, thank you." Lucifer shuffled his feet. "I don't suppose you have a broom?" She blinked and laughed.

"No, but I do have a dustpan and brush! Don't move!" Ella bounced away into her office while Lucifer obediently stood there, statuesque, in the middle of the paper. Dan finally cleared his throat.

"Hey, Chloe," he said with a strained smile. "Everything's under control, I swear. We've actually got a new lead..." Chloe allowed him to lead her away and explain the new development, always keeping a careful eye on Lucifer, now studiously busy in clearing up his mess. 

Something was definitely wrong if he preferred cleaning than attending to Amenadiel.

* * *

Aziraphale was staring at him. Crowley could sense it even with his back turned, dragging the angel along the promenade against the beach, no idea where he was going except _away_. He knew his angel had questions, but he wanted out, as much as one could in the Devil's city, of the feeling of Lucifer's presence. This would be difficult enough as it was.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked quietly as he slowed, reaching a miraculously empty stretch of beach. The wind was whipping the waves into frothy frenzies. Crowley stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Aziraphale, you've never been to Hell," he started, before Aziraphale could start his questions. He had orders to see to first, before they got into _that_ mess. "What goes forth in heaven is not the same as in Hell."

"I know that," Aziraphale said, sounding sad. "But, that isn't what I want to talk about-"

"I know," Crowley snapped, balling his hands into fists, "but this is more important right now." Aziraphale recoiled, blue eyes wide and hurt. Crowley hated that, hated that he had been the cause of it, but the angel simply didn't _know_. Didn't realise the very same gaslighting platitude that they had heard so many times from mothers in Hell.

"Crowley, those that end up in Hell... they are not the norm," he tried. Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering.

"Perhaps for heaven," he said, refusing to turn around. Reaching up, he plucked his glasses from his face, needing the see the world without the lenses. Even now, even with these sub-standard eyes made by remnants of the Lightbringer's powers, he could see the strands that had made all of this possible. Could see the lights of distant stars they had made so many millennia ago, when things were much simpler. "You are younger than I, you were not there for the war."

"I was around," Aziraphale argued, sounding petulant. "I know what happened."

"Do you?" Crowley asked quietly, feeling ancient suddenly compared to his angel. His shoulders slumped. "Tell me, what did they tell you about the war?" Aziraphale blinked.

"Lucifer rebelled, killing many in his war. He wanted free will like the humans, despite our divinity over them," Aziraphale said, parroting words like a good little angel. "His first murder was Samael to ensure justice would never find him first." Crowley sucked in a breath, catching in the lump in his throat.

"Who told you that?" he whispered.

"Michael," Aziraphale said cautiously. It seemed he was starting to catch on to the fact that something was very _very_ wrong. "He took all our lessons on the war before we were sent to guard the Gates of Eden."

Crowley shuddered. _Of course it would be Michael,_ he thought derisively, _who else would it be, to twist the truth so?_

"He lied, Zira," Crowley whispered. "He lied. The war was nothing like that and Lucifer _murdered_ nobody. Except maybe every connection he had to the Almighty."


	5. Interlude I

_Millennia Ago…_

_The war was unintentional. A question here, a complaint there, and the next thing Raphael knew, fighting had broken out all over the Silver City. Samael had renounced his God Given name for his title, Lucifer, the 'Lightbringer'. He preferred that over being known as the 'Venom of God'. Raphael had tried not to pick a side. She was a Healer and so, ignoring the claims from both sides, she did what she was known to do. She healed._

_She came across Lucifer, bloodied and nursing a broken wing, in a secluded area of the Garden. Opposite, Lilith floundered, unsure what to do in the presence of such divinity, her husband nowhere in sight._

_"Lucifer?" she asked, wary at first. The sorrowful look she got, wary and hurt and so angry, had her rushing across, brushing away Lilith's shaking hands and Lucifer's own trembling ones. "What happened?"_

_"It wasn't supposed to be like this," her brother whispered. "I only wanted to know why." A tear fell from one eye. Raphael did her best to set the wing back in place before pressing both hands over it, calling upon the dregs of her exhausted strength to heal._

_"I know," she said back, consolingly. "I know. But… who did this?"_

_"Amenadiel wanted to know why I killed Samael. As if a name was a person." Lucifer swallowed, steeling himself against the pain. Raphael could see other wounds now, slashes and bruises denoting the fight of more than just fists and wings. "This is all my fault."_

_"You asked a valid question," Raphael pointed out, balling her fists in frustration. Her powers were running low, lagging in a way they never had before. Then again, they had never been called upon so often to heal divinity for so long. "And Father did not answer." Lucifer laughed hollowly._

_"Oh, he answered," he said bitterly, placing his own hands over hers. "Thank you, sister. You've helped enough for now." Raphael glanced up, surprised._

_"He did?"_

_"He said we were not to question it. The humans would teach us new values, we only had to be_ patient _." Raphael stared, mouth open slightly. "And then I got into that argument with Michael and Ithuriel suggested that a group of us go and then…"_

_"And then Michael got Amenadiel and Remiel involved," Raphael whispered, a horrible understanding overcoming her. Lucifer nodded._

_"Please, is there anything I can do to help?" Lilith asked, glancing between the two angels. She looked so scared. "He just crashed right into the Garden…"_

_"It is fine," Raphael assured her as best she could, taking one hand. "Please, for the love of the little one, be well." Lilith relaxed, eyes glazing over at the blessing. Raphael didn't give them often, and it seemed wrong to give one in this very moment, but she was so close to giving birth. Such stress could call forth the child prematurely._

_Lucifer was silent, staring at his hands._

_"Mother said I was right," he suddenly piped up. Raphael blinked, leaning back. He shrugged. "She said only I could show Father the light." He snorted. "Worst advice she has ever given me."_

_"Mother… was trying to convince you this was right?" Raphael winced at how small her voice seemed. Lucifer looked up, eyes wide._

_"No, no I don't think so…" He trailed off, looking so unsure about everything. "She just… I don't know. She seems so different these days, so bitter. As if we aren't enough anymore." Raphael personally thought that they had never been enough for the Goddess of All Creation, but now was not the time to point that out._

_"Perhaps it may be time or us to leave," Raphael ventured. She knew, like Lucifer, that the angels of heaven, the likes of Amenadiel and Michael and Gabriel, would never allow them home with little more than an apology. "Petition Father to be a Guardian of the Earth. He cannot object to that, surely?" Lucifer winced, glancing down._

_"Perhaps…" he mused, and then smiled. It was like looking at a tragedy in motion. "Thank you, Raphael," he said gently. "I will try to end the fighting but… it may be too late for petitions."_

_"You never know until you try," Raphael argued, squeezing his hand. "And I know you, Luci. You never did know when to give up."_

_They left the Garden, laughing, together._

* * *

_He was working in the Healing House after the last Great Battle of the war, a small white-haired angel working with him as aid. The little cherub was one of the many newly made angels, not technically siblings since they were not children of the Goddess, but creations by Father to aid either side. Raphael was lost on the names of them, there were so many these days, and he had work to do._

_His powers were lagging. Michael had denied Lucifer any access to Father, wouldn't even entertain the idea that he could be sorry, and attacked. Lucifer had brought some of the more level-headed with him intentionally, but idiots like Beliel had followed and took this as a sign for battle. The resulting conflict had been the bloodiest and the end of the Rebellion. Lucifer now lived in chains while Raphael desperately tried to heal as many as he could_. 

_Ithuriel had ceased to be under his hands when Michael entered the House._

_"Raphael," he called, ignoring the way that Raphael shook, crying for the angel who had just died. "I have need of you."_

_"It can wait," Raphael said, brushing away the tears in an attempt to compose himself. "There are others who require my attention."_

_"I know," Michael snapped. "That is why I need you." He winced, knowing that tone. Michael was not going to take no as an answer right now and would drag him if he had to. Raphael briefly considered ignoring him anyway._

_"I'm coming," he acquiesced instead. He hoped the cherub would cope alone for a while._

_Michael led him to the edge of the Silver City. Several angels were chained together in a long line. A little aside from them, chained far more heavily than all the others, was Lucifer, diminished and dishevelled, but as bright as ever. Raphael twitched, noting the deep cuts and scratches, the wings that were tightly bound to ensure they couldn't move. Michael gripped him by the arm, pointing to the spot next to Lucifer._

_"Wait here," he ordered. Raphael had never been so disgusted by his brother as he was now. He hid it with a blank expression. Michael turned to the other observers, surrounding them in a semi-circle. Most were their siblings- Uriel looked almost fanatic, waiting with baited breath and eager eyes, no doubt already knowing what would occur next. Remiel gripped her spear, bloodthirsty as always. Even Azrael was perched on the wall above the gate, grey eyes wide. She looked frightened._

_Dread pooled in Raphael's stomach._

_"Brothers, sisters," Michael started, voice loud and confident, echoing across the space, "I have gathered you here today to show you the justice Father will give to all those who dare rebel against his orders. We are angels, Father's warriors, guides and teachers. We do not question his Word." Silence stretched as he marched up to the bound and gagged Lucifer. "And yet, some of our brothers and sisters felt the need to do so. Witness their punishment." Before Raphael could say anything, Michael gripped Lucifer's wings and twisted, a sharp crack ringing out through the air. Raphael gasped, the sound covered by the shriek Lucifer let out as the wing snapped in several places and hung limp, only held up by the binding. Michael, ignoring the tears of his twin and the distressed cries of the more sensitive angels, gripped Lucifer by his long dark curls, dragging him across to the gates._

_"You have defied the Creator and created sin," Michael declared. "You and your rebellious brethren are henceforth banished from the Silver City and will reign over Hell forevermore." Raphael moved to stop what would happen next. Before he could complete the first step, Michael threw Lucifer out of the Gates, ripping the gag away as he did so. Lucifer's screams rang in his air, unable to struggle or fly, bound and broken as he was._

_"You monster!" Raphael screamed, alarmed and horrified, trying to duck past Michael. "He'll die before he reached the Realm of the Demons!" Already, outside of the protection of the Silver City, Lucifer was beginning to burn, free falling through atmospheres and layers of reality to Hell. Michael gripped him firmly by the arm, face twisted into a snarl._

_"You would defy the word of our Father?" he growled. Raphael scowled, struggling. Unlike Lucifer and Michael, he had never been a fighter._

_"I cannot believe Father would be so cruel as to order you to throw him out like that!" He did not expect the backhand to the face, staggering back._

_"Lucifer, and all these others, have Fallen. They are stripped of their Grace," Michael spat. "They defied Father. He has ordered punishment and that I give it." Raphael gaped, eyes wide._

_"I don't believe he meant-"_

_"You will defy me?" It wasn't loud, a mere hiss, but Raphael flinched away nevertheless. There was a deep fanatic fire in Michael's face. Uriel was giggling behind him. Azrael was sat stone still, a statue, too shocked by the unfolding events to move. Raphael could see no one else would speak out against this._

_"Yes," he hissed back, eyes narrowed. "This is not right."_

_He never saw Michael's hand coming._


End file.
